


Just As I Thought

by RussianEmpress



Category: League of Legends
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gen, M/M, Multi, Other
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-08
Updated: 2016-11-08
Packaged: 2018-08-29 20:18:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8504014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RussianEmpress/pseuds/RussianEmpress
Summary: LoL drabbles and prompts. Because there is not enough League fiction out there.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Slow burn? More like trying to light a wick under water....Stranger things have happened.  
> Just a note that I try to write "realistically" when it comes to games that have no rules of the outside world. And I like to build relationships for what they really are.
> 
> With that said. Enjoy!

Bullet

When his mouth filled with too much of that familiar strong copper taste, he threw back his head, snorted and hawked up a thick wad of dark brown spit on the sacred grounds around him. Then he would swear a long string of vulgarizes. When all his needless swearing was gurgled with blood again, he repeated the process over and over while he crawled from the open fields and into the safety of the lush brush. 

He loved that flavor of battle, but sure hated the fact that he needed that pesky blood to stay inside him is he wanted to see another. Wounded gravely, and loving it, Kled felt satisfied with how far he managed to drag himself away from his attacker and sat under the thick leaves of the jungle while he patted himself down over and over again. 

Then his arms pin wheeled violently and he toppled backwards, all balance lost, and suddenly found himself plummeting down a steep bed of rocks. He thudded and splashed into a large puddle of ice cold water and groaned through his sharp clenched teeth. 

‘Ahk…stupid. Stupid. STUPID!’

Kled, face down in the murky water, pushed himself to shaking elbows and he peeked behind him. A few tiny rocks skittered down the cliff side of where he fell and swore when he saw what he just did. He had leaned back into the brush, expecting to lean against a boulder and instead had successfully found a short cut into the dragon’s lair, a good twenty feet below. Skaarl was going to have a Hell of a time trying to sniff him out when she would decide to waddle back to him. 

His white fur matted with blood, dirt and now soiled river water, Kled flipped himself on his back and clenched his jaw in serious agony. He stared up at the never ending, cloudless midday sky, something that seemed permanent in the Rift and forced himself to sit up. He dragged himself to be pressed up against the stone walls and sat for a very long time, mismatched eyes closed, silently seething. 

Eventually, a hand lifted up, so did the other one, and his fingers spread wide as he followed one hand up his shoulder and down his arm, up his neck and under his jaw and repeated with the other side. He twisted his chest left and his hips right, which was an awful idea and let out a mighty yelp of shocked pain again. The old yordel was having a grand old time trying to figure out exactly where one of The Virtuoso bullets went into him and it seemed like he had found it. In his lower back.  
Perfect. Just blow his final vertebra and just high enough that when he tried to swing his arm over his shoulder or under the elbow, his stubby clawed fingers wouldn’t be able to catch hold of the bullet hole. Or worse, a finger would catch it and due to the awkward angle and gravity not being his friend at the moment, would rip it wide open. 

Kled had caught the fourth and final round of shots unfortunately when Skaarl decided to not heed his warning pull on her ear and instead of turning tale, she just casually turned the wrong way like a drunken fool and bam! Kled flew six feet up in the air, unbridled from his stead, and couldn’t stop himself as he rolled head over ass in the dirt until his back hit the stone base of the tower he was trying to protect. 

Exposed, unmounted, unarmored, hurt, dizzy as the Devil, and bleeding quickly, Kled had little choice in the matter and decided to duck out of a fight that suddenly became all too one sided for his likings. Jhin managed to overlook the white furred red mess in the bush, humming carefree as he waltzed on by and out of sight, surveying the jungle’s floor for a blood trail of some kind no doubt. 

‘Lucky shot, Fancy Pants, you dumb, one-eyed, son of whore bastard.’ Kled thought lightly, down in the dragon’s nest. Gathering himself once his head stopped spinning, he started to rip away at the edges of his uniform. He ripped apart a long piece that would serve as a great tourniquet, and set to trying to wrap it around his back. Trying, and fumbling pathetically wtih the strip of cloth. His hands slipped once, twice, and he couldn’t snitch the knot. Then the fabric slipped in his lap, and he mumbled low to himself. His lack of depth perception surely wasn’t helping him keep track of the other end of the fabric and he patted the dirt around him like a blind toddler. 

He guessed he should be so lucky Mama Fire Breather was out flying about the place and not roosting. 

‘Get it together, old ninny. You’ve had worse.’ But had he? Axes, sabers, arrows, and other various bullets from other various guns from average human soldiers and gone into him and come out the other end more than a thousand times by now. But Jhin was galaxies away from average, and his dinky stupid gun, Whipper, or whatever stupid name he gave it, was enchanted. Those bullets weren’t just steel formed, but magic touched, bewitched even. Kled wondered many times what did the Rift do to normal weapons? What did the spirits of the thick wooded jungle do to the humans, undead, yordels, and creatures when they walked upon its cursed grounds? 

He himself had felt his own battle axe warm strangely in his hands, underneath the tight leather bounds of its hilt and through his gloves. It came and went, but there were moments he swore the thing was just pulled from a blacksmith’s fire hovel and pressed into his palm. Kled knew he was seeing things when he imagined it giving of sparks of gold. He felt like was sugaring with power as he swung away with it at someone’s face. 

Any feeling of blood pumping, magical axe swinging battle fury was far gone now. One God glorifying moment Kled was in a manic bliss of blind ferocious attacking, then next he was flat on the ground. The heat of the fight drained from him faster than a lone lit match being blown out in a snow storm. Now all that remained was a very old yordel, bleeding to death in a shallow pit of water, with blurred vision trying to tie a fucking knot to keep himself from dying. Or maybe he should just let himself die. The ‘respawn’ magic, or whatever the hell it was (nobody could explain it to him and it seemed nobody questioned it either), frightened him, truth be told. And if he could avoid going into the dark abyss with this faulty promise of being pulled back from it after five, ten, a whole eternity for all he knew, then he would fight tooth and nail to avoid it.

That was why Kled had warmed up a little to that half goat lady monster. She seemed to have a keen eye on him in these crucial moments, and when she called down upon the heavens to heal him of his wounds. For that, well sir, he liked her just fine. But that divine creature was nowhere to be seen, and Kled was in agony for it. 

The cloth slipped from his numb fingers finally, and into the waters he sat in. The dark fabric waved at him underneath the watery surface, and he found himself unable to reach for it anymore, arms going limp at his side. Kled risked calling for Skaarl once more, a lot of nothing that did him besides irritate his lungs and throat, and he decided to just fume in his painful anger, wet and suddenly very tired. For all he knew Jhin was right around the corner and he just gave himself away from calling that worthless lizard’s name.

If he could only get back on her, Hell, he would settle for just grabbing onto her ankle and being dragged, he could somehow dash his way back to base to that aircraft salesmen with the big mustache and gold goggles. He could fix himself up nicely, no magical horse woman needed. 

But that, as the fella with the neatly kept black long hair so fine he looked like a women from the back, but was very clearly a bearded man in the front, would say, was not in his cards. 

‘Well, shit. Not one of my preferred deaths, but...” His gold eye strained, the black pupil shrinking as a frightening thought skittered across his mind. What if dying like this wouldn’t let me him come back? What if this was some strange loophole he had fallen into? His large ears ducked back and pressed low to the sides of his hat. He then recounted the some hundreds of deaths he had already faced, and they were ALL during a fight. A flash of silver steel and a sword went through his skull, but it was DURING a fight. The ground shook and before he had time to even turn around, he and Skaarl were trampled to death by a monster from the dunes of a fallen empire, his innards sprouting from his mouth like daisies, but it was DURING a fight. Dragon’s fire finally ate through his armor, his uniform, his fur, and his flesh and he expired from the heat, but it was still DURING a fight. This would be the first time he would die in a quiet little corner, away from the enemy, away from the jungle’s monsters, away from anyone, just him and him alone. He would fade into the blackness and not be granted to come back. Cowards who crawled away to safety were not worthy of seeing another battle. 

THIS was why he never ran. If he were to die in war, so be it. By default he would be surrounded by his men, if not the enemy, but at least someone would be witness to his falling. Stories would be born of his grand demise and by word alone he would live on forever. For crying out loud, half the reason he kept that skittish, half-brained, disobedient mount around was with the romantic afterthought that they could die together, maybe one long spear going through both their hearts, but together all the same.  
Kled panicked at the worrisome thoughts of being taken to the grave finally all alone. He would be just gone and the rest would be silence. Maybe someone would come upon his water-bloated corpse in a few days and recognize his small form as a yordel and give him a proper burial. Maybe the dragon would come back before then and while rooting it’s snout in its pen would come upon him and decide he wasn’t too rotted to swallow up for the extra calorie count. These thoughts sat heavily in the pit of his stomach. For someone who claimed they never wanted a friend, or company, or have any other wish besides to be alone with his hundreds of empty acres of lands, suddenly he was stricken with fear of dying without having anyone by his side. 

“Nu-uh!” He gritted through blood stained teeth and propped a hand on the wall behind him. He pushed off the rock face with whatever strength he had left, a new surge of warm blood seeping down his back and legs and he forced himself to stumble out of the water polished rock den. He didn’t pull himself out of piles of corpses over the span of over a hundred wars to become a messy pile of dragon shit at the end of it. 

Hand over hand, huffing and sputtering, he followed the curved walls out to the opening. He never noticed just how deep the lair was until now. Kled somehow managed to actually make it to the outside edge of the dragon’s pit, a small victory when he finally collapsed again back in the water. 

Fuck. The river. Fuck. The enormous crab. Fuck. Kled saw the bubbling of said crab in the said river to the side of him. Now he regretted not having the noble death of being dragon shit. Now he would probably just have half his face eaten by this stupid bottom feeder, before the thing would get bored and scuttle away to find something else to nibble on. 

Kled looked up at the clear sky. He grinned at nobody and said out loud, “This is for the all men I’ve skewered, ain’t it?” 

The crab’s claws pushed up through the muck, it’s snapping jaws following close behind it. 

“Or was it cause I called Skaarl stupid. WHICH SHE IS FOR GETTING HIT BY THAT TALENTLESS HACK OF AN ACTOR. GOD DAMMIT SKAARL, YOU WORTHLESS WASTE OF SCALES.” Kled screamed and hollered, angry for dying like this and angry that Skaarl wouldn’t be sharing this fate with him. The crab finally unearthed itself, and if didn’t smell the fresh blood coming off Kled like an apple pie on a window sill, then it certainly saw his limp form in front of it, being literally severed up to it for dinner. The crab’s six legs worked quickly in unison, its claws opening and shutting, as it grew closer, Kled screwed his eyes shut. He wasn’t going to cower, but he didn’t want to watch himself be eaten by the lowly bug either.

The crab had a massively powerful grip and when its clawed limb reached for Kled’s leg, it clamped down with such force, Kled couldn’t help but scream out, mud and water slipping down his gullet. His thigh was easily crushed between those pinchers and he waited for it to give his leg one good yank to rip it clean off. As soon as it grabbed him, it let him go and let out a high-pitched squeal of pain. 

Kled looked up and watched the retreating shell of the thing run off and then saw a purple streak of magic, a bolt of raw energy zoom over his head and strike the crab again and again, over and over hitting it squarely in its head. It tired to dig itself back underneath the water to safety but died when the last hit of dark magic split it’s shell in half like a rotten apple. It flopped heavily into the water, the waves from its still form raised up and raced over to hit Kled in the face, threatening to drown him in an inch of water as he couldn’t left his head up any longer. 

Ok, fine, it seemed the Gods just wanted to play with him now, they wanted to see just how humiliating of a death they could bring him. Now he was going to drown on his own mucus, blood and handful of dirty water instead. The water splashed over him, and before he could take in a breath of river water that would have drowned him finally, he was hoisted up in the air by the back of his neck and he yelled out again. The gravity of his own body ripping at the bullet wound still at his back and he hung limply in midair, a prized fish to be gutted soon by an enemy champion. 

Kled bit on the inside of his cheeks to keep from screaming out again, and harshly said “Pu’medwn.”

“Pardon?” Replied a smooth and sultry voice, a bite of cold edge to it. A women’s voice with a hint of sorrow to it while also confused by what Kled muttered out. Kled couldn’t see who had jumped to his last minute saving, from both the crab and the shallow waters. Not that his brain was in any condition to actually try and recall who’s purple magic that belonged to, but his hat’s brim had slipped over his eyes and casted him into darkness.

Without being told the second time, thank God, Kled was lowered to the ground and the second the other person let go of him, he fell onto his back into the water again. He swore and swore. The pain and frustration of it all just kept building up without any release and he would go crazy (more so) before he would be granted death. 

He felt the boney fingers of his savior’s hand reach under his hat, and pull it up off his brow. He squinted at the harsh light that suddenly hit him and all he could see was a purple wide smear. His hat was pulled off completely (Rude. If anything, he was glad that was going to be allowed to die with his beloved hat on, since he had lost literally everything else he owned. Holy Hell, his hat was heavy. He never noticed, but now his neck sang in relief from the weight being removed), and as they sat it down next to him, Kled’s blurred vision stayed blurred, but a form was starting to take place in front of him.

The figure pulled back, standing at full height over Kled’s still form and Kled’s mushy brain finally connected name to odd figure. He saw Morgana’s rounded bell skirt but he recognized those scrawny and sickly skeletal remains of wings that seemed to twitch as if the light breeze was causing them pain. 

“Yer that pissy succubus.” He managed to say after she hadn’t moved for some time. Kled only recalled seeing her a few times, and only spoke to her maybe once. He remembered barking an order to her and he liked how she just followed them. He learned two things about her that day; One, that her name was Morgana, a fact that she did not tell him herself, but a name that was thrown out at her direction by another teammate, and two; that she was indeed a succubus that latched onto her victim’s form and would literally try to rip their souls out of them in order to win the fight. He may have said “Good job” or “Thanks” to the lady afterwards. He couldn’t remember. But he did remember how she never seemed to smile, or blink for that matter. Morgana just looked sad, and the dark wisps of black magic that formed around her while she was still didn’t help brighten her complexion. 

Kled then recalled how he once overheard Draven saying that she had some of the best aim with her magic out of anyone, but Lord almighty she must give super awkward blowjobs with that thousand yard stare of hers. Kled laughed and then a women in gold armor, her own pristine and perfectly white feather wings flapped angrily at his comment. The voice that echoed from inside the helmet had threatened to slit his throat with her enchanted sword if he ever said something so fowl again. Kled wondered briefly why the gold armored lady cared so much about what was said about the sickly looking purple sorceress…

“And you’re dying.” She stated back from above and looked around, alert and ready with a spell if someone was watching them. 

Kled couldn’t help but smile at her bluntness. 

“Gee. Glad someone was here ta tell me that. Thank you kindly.” 

She said nothing back. She was either unaware of his sarcasm, or she was allowing a dead man his final words. 

“Howja find me?”

“I felt your suffering.” 

“Oh.” He shifted painfully, brows furrowed, his breathing becoming shallow. “Well it seems like I had made good friends with misery right now.” He grimaced. “That, uh…” He swallowed painfully. “That somethin’ you can feel out then, huh?”  
Morgana’s blank eyes stared hauntingly at Kled, beyond him. Her head lolled to the side, a thin oil streak of her dark hair falling in front her face. 

“…I can. Yes.” She said evenly, calmly. 

“Don’t suppose that means you’ll help to that sufferin’, will ya’?”

Head tilting to the other side quizzingly, those frightful frames of what surely were beautifully feathered wings once, gently lowered themselves like too heavy willow branches as she glided closer to him. Kled saw how the darkness beneath her dress allowed her to move like a liquid. He doubted her feet even touched the ground under that hoop skirt of hers.

Morgana’s blank stare held his mismatched colored one and she observed over his pain for a while. Kled’s breathing was shallow and raspy. He was either breathing through the blood, or it was getting pushed up in his lungs, either way, with each hitched breath, a faint spray of crimson dots shot outward. It dribbled out his nose steadily, thickly. What once was white was now a ruby black, his fur matted and caked with the earth’s soil. Even now he glared up at her, untrusting, even though by the rules of this plain, she wasn’t allowed to strike him down. Whatever invisible bind that made up their little ‘team’ was the only thing keeping her from reaching out and grabbing his little brittle neck in her pale hand, and squeezing it, just so she could feel the life in him pulse with fear. 

Instead she out stretched her hand before him and too quickly and without warning, a burst of green light erupted before them both. A healing spell a few select knew how to use and Kled was so grateful for it he thought he would cry from joy. He felt small cuts close, the throbbing pain where the crab lad latched onto him subside, and various other bruises all over him heal. But the bullet wound only managed to quiver a bit, the flesh around it stiffening for a moment but didn’t close. Kled’s gold and white eyes watched the cloudless sky above him. 

“It is not enough.” Morgana said. She didn’t say she was sorry. Soraka, that lovely and powerful healer, with hair as white as his own fur, always apologized for not saving anyone in time, sometimes not getting to the dying by only seconds. The Star Child seemed to take every loss personally. Morgana’s milky pupil-less eyes just stared down at him. Then she bent, hunched over her knees, arms resting on top of them.  
“Would you like me to stay or leave you to your peace?” She said emotionless. 

Kled stopping scanning the sky and looked over her. His blind eye matched hers, he noticed. 

“Guess there’s no harm in you stayin’.” 

Kled always knew he would never go to Heaven when this life was finished with him. But he never would have guessed in a millions years that an angel would be by his side when he did. It only seemed wildly appropriate that it would be a fallen one at that.  
With unblinking, empty eyes watching him from above, the cantankerous-cavalier died. 

***  
Epilogue: 

Kled bounced on Skaarl, standing as he always did to see over her head, looking side to side for any blades of grass that weren’t supposed to be moving. 

Weeks ago, after Kled had made his so-called peace with the world and bid it farewell, he was a little miffed that he was back. Back at the center the ancient stones and statues that hummed with unknown power. He patted himself down, all of him seemingly in one piece, not one thread of his uniform or fur on his face out of place. That deep bullet hole wound in his back was nothing more than a bad memory. He breathed a deep sigh of relief, though his head still felt a little fuzzy. He looked up when he heard the joyful grunts and squeals of Skaarl trotting towards him. The damn lizard finally found him, at the base when he spawned hours later after he ‘died’. A perky blond girl was on the creature’s back riding her with ease, if not looking a little funny due to the size difference. Lux said she found Skaarl roaming the jungle in a weird panic and when they found each other, Skaarl kept nipping at her skirts to follow her to where she had thrown Kled off her. When Lux was dragged to the spot though, there was no yordel General to be found, and Skaarl started to howl this unsightly sad honking noise. Lux covered her ears and Skaarl started to dig her wickedly long talons into the ground. She sniffed the ground, sniffed the air, chased her tail, and cried out again. 

Lux didn’t know if the thing was possessed or what, but Lux’s bottom lip stuck out and she felt pity for the simple beast. It was only then did she notice that Kled was indeed missing when Skaarl sat down and curled up into a little ball and whined. She placed her white gloved hands onto each side of her mouth and called out for Kled over and over again, hoping he would spring out from nowhere and could at least stop Skaarl from making that hideous noise. Skaarl screeching’s could have been heard miles away.  
Morgana found them first, dress skirt whirling around her with her speed as she slapped her hand on top the girl’s mouth. Morgana had only a few seconds to tell her Kled just over the ridge, waiting to respawn, that she had found him dying near the dragon’s lair before Jhin jumped upon them both and fired Whisper into the back of Morgana’s head. She had only barely dodged it when she stepped onto on of Jhin’s deadly lotus flowers and set off the grenade. 

She hit the ground, dead, and then Skaarl darted between Lux’s legs, she hoisted the young human onto her back and jumped Jhin’s form to zoom off to safety. Jhin looked down at Morgana’s still form and the last thing Lux heard was him laughing.  
Lux recalled the quick encounter with the mad man, and hopped off Skaarl. Kled held out his hand and his stupid lizard dipped her snout down into his palm. He grabbed her long ear and yanked it down so he could clamber up onto her. He threatened to beat her senseless if she ever ran into another bullet like that again. 

Lux patted Skaarl’s dome and then cupped her own chin, her forever tactical mind made her pounder if only Morgana had a healing spell ready, they could have teamed up to take the famed murder down, but sadly, it didn’t play out that way. Kled frowned as he adjusted his stance on Skaarl’s back. 

“That so.” He said. 

Lux shrugged. “Just a thought! But it doesn’t matter now. Last I heard Rengar got the jump on that nutcase. So we got some time if we go north-“ Kled cut her off. 

“How long was I out?” Lux shrugged again.

“A long time actually. Now that I think about it. I only noticed when you missed two big team fights, and as you know, Skaarl never helps when you’re not there to guide her. We didn’t lose, but we surely didn’t win. You see, with tactics when -” Kled interrupted her again, and pulled for Skaarl to start walking back to the field. 

“How long was Morg’ out?” 

“Mmmm…five? Ten minute?”

So it seemed his way of thinking wasn’t too far off. Dying in battle brought you back differently than if you were to die on the side lines. He promised he would never die outside a fight every again. Ever. 

“We still fightin’?”

“Of course!”

“Then let’s get to it! YAW!” Skaarl reared up and darted forward, Kled’s grip on her a little harder than usual.

Kled recalled that strange battle from time to time. It plagued his nightmares with being caught in this zone of being dead but alive. His body felt like it was on fire and yet his skin couldn’t stop shivering from the cold. A green eerie glow followed him, smothering him, as he seemed to phase through everyone, trying to reach out to anyone who could hear him. He kept seeing bird skeletons fly over him, their skinless sharp wings and beaks trying to cut out his one good eye. The sky was dark with the threat of rain that never came down, but purple lightening danced overhead. He made a note to stay away from those boogiemen folks from the shadow place for those weeks, especially that laughing skull, the one with the lantern. 

He swore to any God or mystical creature or whatever and whoever was listening that he was going to kick Jhin’s teeth in so hard behind that ugly mask of his, Ionia was going to create an honoree Kled Day for stomping the Golden Demon’s ass into the ground. 

Ironically enough, with Kled seething mad, Jhin hadn’t appeared on the battle field since then. That crazy little blue haired pigtailed demon child told him that he was, quote, “Called off to kill some dorks for the government and put on a play.” 

Kled was still going to severely hurt Jhin whenever his prancing ass showed up again. Although Kled hadn’t seen Jhin, he did however just notice something in the corner of his eye. A fluttering of purple molting, decaying wings. He pulled Skaarl to the right and there she was. Morgana was waltzing towards wherever it was she was going. 

Trotting up to her, she was unsurprised when the old yordel suddenly bounced into view at the side of her, his standing form coming just a little under her own eye level. Kled on Skaarl was a very loud noise of jingling armor and heavy thuds of tiny dragon-like feet so ignoring him took some effort. 

Morgana did not offer a greeting and kept her gaze forward, a firm frown on her face, as perusal. So Kled had to initiate conversation first, which was never a hard thing for him to do. He tilted his hat down at her, oh so gentlemanly of him, and said “Ma’am.”  
It was hard to tell, but Kled could see her roll her eyeballs. He smirked and Skaarl chittered something at him. 

“I never did thank ya, fer helping me out that there last time we were in a match. ‘Member?”

“No thanks is needed. You died regardless. That I remember clearly.” 

“True. True. But I appreciated what you tried to do anyway. Ya know, you could have told me I wasn’t gonna to actually die. You said I was, but ya could have just told me I was headed to the respawn.” 

“I do not understand why you would think differently.” 

“A theory I had…”

“Sounds like an idiotic theory.” 

Kled was going to call her a dumb bitch, but then remembered she wasted her heal on him, allowing Jhin an easy kill, and knowing he would respawn with full health anyway stayed by his side while the enemy team gathered closer.

“The magical elements of this plain are beyond your tiny yordel comprehension. Even I, a being of the Heavens and of the Outer Worlds have little grasp on what these grounds are actual capable of. Do not base simple ideas without any logic to them to hold sway on your life or how you perform in battle.” 

“You callin’ me dumb?” 

Morgana said nothing. 

“Ya know, I like you.” She stopped walking and snapped her head at him, a snarl forming on those dark painted lips of her, those thin eyebrows drawing close together to glare at him. Skaarl shuddered and leaned away from her. 

“Ya don’t sass back. I like that.” Morgana’s anger flat lined and she turned back her focus to her destination, if not a bit annoyed now. Kled allowed Skaarl to fall back a bit, clearly Morgana wasn’t the talkative type (another thing Kled liked) and he watched those supple hips of her sway like a clock’s pendulum in front of him. His sharp little teeth bit his bottom lip. Skaarl gurgled something at him. 

Kled slapped his axe to her flank and she picked up her bouncy pace again, heading into the jungle’s thick brush. “Yeah,” he said to her, as if he understood what the gurgling meant. “But I sure do love proving Draven wrong.”


End file.
